To Have and to Hold
by Notaslongasthat
Summary: To Love and to Cherish. A Fic of drabbles featuring the Dr. and the Mrs... (and at times before she was Mrs.)
1. Chapter 1

**Uploading this here - from tumblr.**

March, 1961

 _"He only sent you away to protect you."_

 _"Knowing that here and here. It's two very different things..._ _And I hated him for the longest time. And then I remember – I remember feeling strangely afraid._

 _"Of what?"_

 _"Afraid that if I ever came back to this town, I'd end up just like him."_

 _"And now? Is that such a bad thing?"_

 _"No, I don't think it is. Not anymore."_

The fire crackled away in their unorganized, soon-to-be marital bedroom. That thought alone warmed him more than the fire or the warmth of being able to share such difficult memories of his father with her: his confidante and soon-to-be wife.

"Jean," he leaned across the couch to clasp her cheek once again and kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes and opened them to the sound of pinging glass as his tumbler clinked against hers, held loosely in her fingers. She took a generous swig of the amber liquid, feeling the burn linger in her throat. She swallowed it back. He let out a heavy but contented breath. "You know, despite everything that's happened, I can't keep a grin off my face. I've had to purse my lips to keep solemn at times. You were right. Patrick wouldn't have wanted us to postpone. Two more days, Jean. Think, this time tomorrow, I'll be forbidden to see you."

He looked at her expectantly for a reaction. She only nodded and took another large sip, effectively emptying her glass. She didn't meet his eyes. She sat still, fidgeting the empty glass back and forth in her hands, looking downward.

"No," she eventually breathed. "That would be bad luck."

"And Heaven knows we've had enough of that."

Lucien examined her carefully. She sat frozen looking strangely expressionless. "Jean?"

Hearing her name broke her from her trance and she peered up at him with watery eyes. "Yes," she finally conceded. "That we certainly have."

"Are you ... I mean, is everything alright?"

"Oh," she smiled unconvincingly. "Yes."

He looked at her doubtfully. "You can tell me," he titled her chin upwards and couldn't tell what she was thinking. Her bottom lip quivered and her breath shook. "What's wrong?"

Her face scrunched up as she tried to keep from crying. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, "Please."

"It's what you just said, Lucien. About how knowing something 'here'," she pressed at her temple, "and here," she rested her hand on her chest, "are two very different things."

Her throat made a horrid choking noise and Lucien quickly wrapped her in his arms. He felt her erratic breathing his chest. "Darling," he lulled. "Shh," he smoothed his hand up and down her arm before combing it through her hair.

"He never telephoned. He didn't even write!" she choked dismally. "He's had months! And nothing! I don't know why I had my hopes up."

"Oh, Jean," he sighed, carefully placing a kiss at her temple.

"Christopher told me he'd reach out to him as well. I suppose he's been no more successful and now neither of my sons will be there," she cried, her voice still unsteady.

"We still have the option to postpone, if you wish. I want it to be perfect."

"No. I don't know how long Christopher will be gone. We are not delaying in hopes that Jack changes his mind. He's stubborn and determined not to like you. I wish it could be different. I _know_ it could be different. You're wonderful and he would realize that if he would only…" she trailed off. "Yes, it's two very different things; knowing something in your head and in your heart and I refuse to wait any longer."

"I wish I could help."

"I know," she nestled her head against his chest and casually toyed with his tie and vest buttons. "You do help."

"The heart," he resolved after a moment, "is not stubborn. That's the brain. Jack loves you. He may be stubborn, as you say, but I saw it nonetheless when he was here a couple years back. The brain is stubborn. I have no doubt he is happy for you - for us - in his heart."

She loved him for his attempt to cheer her up. It was working. "But they're two very different things," she finished. "Who knew I'd have such a poetic husband."

"Ha," he chuckled as his stomach flipped hearing her call him her husband. "Trust me. If my brain weren't always so damn stubborn itself," he tossed the letter from his father aside, "Well, then my poor heart would have long ago succeeded in telling you how I feel. We would be long married," he claimed.

"Lucien!" she gasped, the objection in her tone betrayed by her laugh that followed.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. "My head," he kissed her forehead before he dipped his head down to kiss the swell of her breast through her shirt. He lingered there as he muttered, "and my heart have never been more in agreement of anything as they are about marrying you."

She indulged for a brief moment. She ran her fingers through his hair to kept his head against her rapidly beating heart. "Two more days," she promised to him - and to their bedroom in general -when she released him. She felt him recline back into the couch, pulling her into his arms once more.

"Even less than 48 hours," he intoned wickedly. The light from the flames highlighted the dark of his eyes as his eyes roamed her body. "Jean," his deepened voice gave her goosebumps despite the warmth from the fire. He noticed her shiver.

"Oh, Lucien. I can't wait."

She saw excitement pop into his eyes before his demeanor became rigid for a moment. He hesitated, "We should though, love. What's another two days, hmm?" he reached for her hand.

She giggled and corrected him. "I meant I can't wait as in I'm excited. Not the literal interpretation."

"Ooh," he blushed. "What can I say? I very much can't wait to be your husband for a multitude of reasons."

"Hmm. I can't wait to be Mrs. Blake for one very specific reason," she flurried kisses across his face before settling on his mouth. He moaned into her mouth. The final forty eight hours would be sweet torture. Now, he understood why the groom wasn't allowed to see the bride before the wedding.

 **I may make this random drabbles. I need drabbles in my life until season 6 happens. So long! :(**


	2. Chapter 2

Jean found him hunched over his desk with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his frustration palpable in the air. As he alternated between rubbing at his temples and eyes, she pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head. Dear, dear Lucien. He had been focused on a case that seemed particularly difficult to crack. She lingered at the study door for a moment. When he noticed her standing there, her eyebrows furrowed with concern, he tried giving her a smile. He couldn't fool her.

"Jean," he surrendered with an irritated huff.

"You should come to bed."

"Yes. Yes, I know," he drawled his acceptance. As he straightened his papers, he paused and studied her, emitting an amused, "hmmm.."

She narrowed her eyes at his unidentifiable-yet-familiar sly grin. She couldn't decipher whatever thoughts were spinning in his tired brain. But oh, yes, they were forming that cheeky half smile; the one that was dangerous and did things to her. "What is it?" she asked as evenly as she could.

"Oh, I'm just thinking of the many times you've stood right where you are and said those same words to me. With the exception of one word, that is," he reclined in his chair, finally resigned from his work. He linked his fingers together and extended his hands behind his head, using his palms as a headrest. His eyes darkened when he looked her up and down.

She bit her lip and smiled at the same time as the meaning of his words warmed her. Burning tingles spread from her cheeks to her chest and finished as butterflies, low in her stomach. She left her spot in the doorframe, enjoying his heated gaze on her as she drew closer to him. "Well, you realize it's impossible for me not to notice when you're over working yourself now."

"Darling, you've always noticed that. You've always looked after me," he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, coaxing her down to sit on his knee. Jean hooked a finger under his tie, smoothing it out from under his vest, her hand roaming aimlessly and greedily over his chest.

"Ah, but now I do so as your wife," her proud tone humbled him.

He tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear and whispered, "And she has more effective methods of getting me to go to bed."

"That's right. So I'll say it again," she brought her other hand to the knot of his tie and thumbed at the silk. "Co _me_ to bed _."_

He felt the tips of her hair tickle his cheek as she hovered over him. She pressed her forehead to his. His arms wrapped around her waist, clutching her against him. He hummed against her lips when he felt their warm contact. When she suckled at his upper lip and dragged her hands down across his chest to his stomach, he moaned. And when he trapped her lower lip between his teeth, teasing her captured flesh with his tongue, she moaned louder in reply. She readjusted herself intentionally and almost cruelly, over and over, where she sat against him. He released her from his bite with an outright groan. She exhaled, her pulse quickening, as she sped up the tempo of her hips.

His hands pushed down where her hipbones met the top her thighs, effectively stilling her. She whimpered her protest then retaliated by yanking at his tie and guiding to her neck, demanding kisses. He complied happily, suckling and nipping the skin at her pulse point, with no mind to how he may leave obvious marks there. When he heard her throaty attempt at his name, he soothed her reddening skin with the warmth of his tongue and lapped his way up to her chin. He pressed a brief gentle kiss there before he dragged his lips across her jawline to her ear.

"You know," he murmured. "You're actually making the prospect of leaving my study less appealing."

"Oh? I wouldn't say that," she lowered her voice and shifted backward in his lap before standing at his knees. "In fact," she let her eyes fall to the prominent rise of his trousers before gloating, "I think right now you'll follow me wherever I want. And I," she leaned down to run a finger through his beard, "want you," her palms covered his cheeks, "to come to bed, Lucien," she settled her lips on his for a soft but deep kiss that left no room for negotiation.

He wasn't negotiating anything from the moment he saw her at the doorway. He was also fairly sure she knew that. She knew him better than anyone else. And just like he admitted, she had always looked after him so well; long before she was his wife. God, she really was so good to him. And for him. He looked up to her when their kiss broke. Their hands had intertwined at some point during their kiss.

He gripped her hands, hoping something in his touch conveyed his gratitude. He felt a nervous flutter deep in his stomach when she pouted down at him. Her eyebrow raised when he pulled their joined hands to his lips to lay light kisses across her knuckles. He was hit, once again, by the fear he didn't deserve her. He squeezed her hands.

"Lucien?" she questioned, her tone patient, but her eyes betrayed her. "What is it?"

"I love you, Jean. That's all."

Her eyes softened for a moment and her head tilted slightly to examine him. In a moment more brief than the one in which she'd softened, her eyes glistened and her pull on him intensified. She yanked her arms, still in his grip, and guided him up and along with her.

"I love you, Lucien," she managed. It came out almost indecipherable - slurred and rushed - which only verified for him that she meant it. And of course, he had known all along she did. She chose him. He may never deserve her but for as long as she chose him, he would be the best husband he possibly could. Yes, he would look after her too. And at that moment, he knew a fail-proof plan of how he could do just that.


	3. Chapter 3

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

"I feel like we never get time alone anymore," he grumbled.

"What do you mean? We're alone now."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, I do know you were spoiled by our honeymoon," she pursed her lips coyly.

He grinned wickedly. "I know that too. But seriously, Jeannie. I do miss you."

"I'm right here," she shuffled closer to him on the couch, curling her legs beside her and resting her head on his chest. "There. Does this help?"

He kissed her forehead, along her hairline. "No," he breathed mournfully and smoothed his hand down her back to sit restlessly at the rise of her hip, his fingertips digging in. He pulled her closer. "I'm beyond help."

"Lucien…" she hesitated but squeezed his hand easily.

He brushed his lips to hers then frisked his gaze at her pout. "I'm afraid there's nothing to be done about it."

"No cure, doctor?"

"No," he said solemnly. "It's driven the brightest minds in medicine mad, I'm afraid."

"Ah! That explains it."

"As if I'd want that treatment. Well not most days.."

"Lucien!" she sat up straight and gave him an incredulous stare.

"I'm sorry, darling. But it would make me less distracted."

"I distract you?"

"You're obstructing, if you must know. But I wouldn't change it for anything."

"Well," she huffed and settled back against him. "Good?"

"It is. This afternoon for instance, when I was supposed to be filling out a report for Matthew, I was distracted by thoughts of a scene just like this one," he elaborated. "And while I was thinking of you, and neglecting the case file, I looked up and noticed the police station's hydrangeas which made me think of you again. I never got that report done, come to think of it. I was heading home before I realized."

"Matthew won't be pleased when he gets home."

"Probably not," Lucien tilted her chin up to reassure her with his lips on hers. "Let's make ourselves scarce then before he arrives, hmm?"

"You are incorrigible. But I missed you today too."


	4. Chapter 4

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

 _A small missing moment at the hospital. Just because. And also because.. how good did Jean look?😍_

–

Jean stepped back into Lucien's hospital room with the water she went to retrieve for him.

"Wait. Stop there," she heard his faint and raspy voice demand.

"What? Why? Lucien?"

He tried and failed to sit up against his pillow once more. "Just," he swallowed. Even that hurt. "Walk over here slowly. Give me something to live for."

She felt self-conscious for a brief moment as a blush warmed her. Regaining composure, she bit down on her lip to keep from smiling at him. "Have they given you a dose too much?" she retorted as she sauntered, swaying her hips purposefully, toward his bed.

Despite the tiredness in his eyes, his gaze managed to sear her form with a heated desire that made her delightfully nervous. She thought for a moment that she'd forgotten how to walk.

"Your water," she acknowledged and set it down before leaning down to run her fingers through his hair.

"Thank you," he hummed appreciatively, leaning into her head scratches. "You scared Alice off," he began to laugh but winced at the pressure in his chest.

"Shh," she urgently pulled her chair closer to his bed and sat down, clutching his hand in hers. "I did no such thing. Alice is not an easy woman to scare off."

He squeezed her hand in agreement as his breathing returned to normal. "I know. But your warning glare did the trick."

"Well, you need rest Lucien," she maintained. "I won't have you straining yourself, getting excited talking about your make-shift medical contraptions. I am however, very glad that you were able to concoct such a remedy in time, or else…" her voice cracked as she bent down, sinking her forehead down to settle against his upper arm. Lucien's left hand struggled across his body to comb through her hair.

"Jean, my all-" he began but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jean crooked her neck to see Charlie at the door.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Jean," he hesitated at the door frame. "Am I interrupting?"

"Of course not, Charlie. Please."

Her hands refused to leave Lucien and smoothed up and down the warmth of his skin, against the coarse hair of his arms. "Are there any updates?" she directed at Charlie but her eyes remained focused on Lucien, unable to look away from the evidence of the miracle that he lived to be there. Her Lucien. She would make sure he was more careful in the future as best she could. She would remind him that he was gambling with her world. He was her everything too and she swore to herself sometimes that she would have to stand before a bullet to make him believe it.


	5. Chapter 5

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

"There she is," he greeted as he walked into their bedroom on that particular Thursday morning in January. Jean was curled up on the couch concentrated on her knitting.

"Here I am," she gave a small smile in return.

She felt his hands at her shoulders behind her, applying pressure as he droned, "That looks marvelous, Jean," he ran a hand ran from her shoulder down to her knitting, taking it out of her grasp.

"Lucien!" she objected.

He ignored her protests, placing the yarn and needles on the table. "It was demanding your attention."

"Hmm, and aren't you?"

He chuckled, "quite," before kissing the top of her head. He made his way around to her and placed his hands at the back of the couch at either side of her shoulders. "I need your full attention to wish you the happiest of birthdays."

"Oh," she exhaled. "Yes. Thank you," she let her lips brush his cheek.

"And to celebrate this fine day, I'm taking you out to Ballarat's finest restaurant. Or anywhere my lovely wife would like to dine."

"Really, Lucien. There's no need."

"No need?" he questioned and grazed her lips against hers. "There's every need. It's a very important day, your birth. Worthy of endless celebration in my estimation."

"If you say so. Just…surprise me with where we go," he felt her pull back and reach behind them to reach for her knitting.

"Jean?" he grabbed her wrist. "Do you not want to go out? That's alright too."

"No. Yes. I do," she managed. "I'm just not thrilled to celebrate this particular birthday," her eyebrow arched at him in a threatening manner.

"Oh, don't say that!" he exclaimed. "I faced it myself too almost four years ago. The best years of my life have been in my fifties," he kissed her temple.

"I suppose."

"Mmm, don't just 'suppose' it. It's a definite, my dear. And that is because of you. My only regret is that we didn't get to celebrate more of our birthdays together."

Her cheeks bunched up in response and Lucien kissed her tightened skin. "I mean it, Jean. I wished for you for so long and now every day I'm pleasantly confounded by the fact I have you. So you best believe I want to give you a grand birthday celebration."

"Well, I don't want to deny you that…" she considered, craning her neck to meet his eyes. "What else do you have planned?"

"Oh, you definitely will get at least fifty birthday kisses," he settled his lips on hers, tickling her lips with his tongue, until she giggled and deepened their kiss.

"Mmm, that's one," she smirked and pulled him down by his collar onto the couch.

"Yes," he kissed her once more, briefly. "You'll get the rest," he informed her. He stood off the couch. "Later. For now, I have some planning to do."

"No. Get back here. It's my birthday and I'll get what I want."

"But, you haven't told me what you want. You've barely acknowledged this day, in fact" he smirked.

"Lucien," she warned and hooked her foot around his ankle, making him topple back down onto the couch.

"Oh," he steadied himself beside her. "That move has earned you fifty birthday spanks, I'm afraid."

Her stomach flipped. "Hmmm, as long as they're accompanied by the kisses you owe me."

His voice deepened. "That can be arranged. Now, are you going to let me go make the other arrangements?"

"You're a terrible liar, Lucien. I heard you making reservations last week. Now be true to your word and kiss me."

"Whatever you wish. Happy birthday, my gorgeous," and with that his lips were back on hers to fulfill the many kisses he promised.


	6. Chapter 6

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

set during 3x05

Mattie quickly removed the cake covered candles from Jean's cake. "Now, I think this will taste better than it looks," she laughed as she placed slices onto plates and set them around the table.

"I can't imagine how it would taste otherwise," Lucien scoffed.

"Hey! Enough!" Jean berated him. "She's worked very hard on this. Now, it's my birthday - so, I get it my way. Be quiet and eat."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Joke's over."

"So, Mum - what did you wish for?"

"I can't tell you that! Then it won't come true."

"Oh, you don't believe in that sort of stuff."

"That's just how it works, Christopher."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, in order for the wish to come true, you must have a candle for each year you are old."

"I've never heard that." She pointed her fork at him. "And if this is a clever way for you to poke fun at my age…"

"Oh, Jean - you are not old," Mattie denied.

"Old enough to be a grandmother," she smiled.

"Only because you've both had children quite young," Mattie offered. "Anyhow, despite the horror at the theatre, I wanted to tell you I thought you performed well. And I liked the blonde hair!" Mattie complimented.

"Really, Mattie. You don't need to say nice things just because it's my birthday."

"I'm not!" she insisted. "It looked nice, didn't it Christopher?"

"Sure, Mattie," he shrugged. "I don't remember being appalled by it anyhow."

"Flattering," Jean scrunched her nose at him.

"I really did like it!" Mattie defended. "If you were a grandmother, it wouldn't look so smart."

"But I _am_ a grandmother," she corrected.

"Not quite yet," Christopher reminded her. "But still, don't dye your hair Mum."

"I never said I wanted to," Jean grinned, amused at the direction of the conversation.

Mattie pressed on, "I think you could pull it off! Don't you, Lucien?"

"If she did, it wouldn't surprise me one bit," Lucien affirmed, setting his fork on his empty plate.

"See?" Mattie triumphed.

Jean didn't respond but tilted her head across the table at Lucien. "Really? It wouldn't surprise you if I walked into this kitchen and my hair was golden blonde?" she teased.

"Like Marilyn Monroe!" Mattie gleamed.

"Yes. Alright," Jean allowed while shaking her head.

"Well, I didn't say _that_ ," he tapped the remaining crumbs off his fork awkwardly onto his plate. "That _would_ be a surprise.."

Christopher raised his eyes at Lucien, waiting for the elaboration they all felt hanging in the air. "but?"

Lucien cleared his throat. "It's just never surprising when a beautiful woman carries off a fashion trend."

Jean stared at her cake-filled plate as Lucien fumbled for the cake slicer, "Say, Mattie, this cake is rather good after all. I'd quite care for seconds, if that's alright?"

"Of course," she looked at him and then to Jean before standing. "I'm so tired. It was certainly a night to remember. Happy Birthday," she kissed the top of Jean's head before scurrying out of the room.

"I could use some sleep too before I go," Christopher realized. "I'm heading out soon."

"Please say goodbye first!" Jean insisted, rising out of her seat.

"I better say goodbye now, actually. You need your sleep and I really need to get going. Ruby is no doubt worrying. Happy birthday again," he kissed her cheek. "And if your wish had anything to do with the baby, well - just know, you'll be the first person I call."

"Oh, Christopher."

"Love you, Mum. Take care," he nodded to Lucien.

"Good luck," Lucien offered as Christopher disappeared from the room.

"I still can't believe that any day now, I'll be a grandmother," she sighed thoughtfully as she sat back down across from him.

"Neither can I," he agreed. Then with deliberation behind his words, he repeated, more slowly, "Neither can I." He looked across the table to meet her eye and much like when they made eye contact after she blew out her candles, his stomach jolted. "And really - bravo to you."

She felt her face flush. "Thank you. You know, it turned out to be a great birthday. Now, go. Get some sleep, Lucien. You need it. I'll clean this when I wake up."

"Oh, no. no. It's your birthday. I can't have that," he began moving the plates to the sink. "I better not find these clean in the morning. Sleep well, Jean."

"Good night," she paused. Lucien couldn't be sure, but he thought he detected a flirtatious lilt when she added, " _doctor_."


	7. Chapter 7

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

He tiptoed into the kitchen, attempting to stay quiet. She was at the stove scrambling eggs when he wrapped his arms around her whispering a "good morning" behind her ear. He noticed her cheek tighten from her smile. He squeezed around her ribs and leaned closer to brush his lips against the soft skin at her cheekbone. She set her spatula down and turned around slowly, methodically looping her hands around his shoulders to scratch the skin at the hairline of his neck. He watched her wet her lips before they were on his own.

"Good morning," she hummed on his lips before turning back to their breakfast.

She felt his fingers play with the sash of her robe by her spine; hooking underneath it. He loosened it just slightly then traced lines over the cotton material, slowly working down to the small of her back. His palms brushed over the rise of her hips before gliding their way back up to her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Smells delicious."

"Well, good. It's – it's ready," she stammered and turned off the stove, pushing at his wrist to step out of his hold. He pulled at her arm, stopping her beside him.

"Breakfast smells good too…"

She rolled her eyes but her smile and subtle eye-raise that followed heartened him. "Toast?"

"That would be lovely," he sat down.

She felt him watching her every move as she prepared their plates. She set them down and pressed a lingering kiss in his hair before she joined him.

"No patients today then?" he questioned knowingly.

"I didnt schedule anyone," she sipped her tea.

"Brilliant," he reached for hand, thumbing at her engagement ring. "I was hoping we could spend Valentine's day together."

"So was I. Happy Valentine's day, Lucien."

His eyes darkened when she met his eyes and her stomach flipped. She stared down at his fingers, playing with her ring. She couldn't wait to find out the extent of their talents. Thinking of how he touched her moments ago, even through her robe, she sighed.

"Lucien?" she tried to steady her voice.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Jean, you know it doesn't matter what we do," he brought her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

"In six weeks it wont matter," she corrected pointedly.

He chuckled. She gulped. His lips had moved from her knuckles to the inside of her wrist.

"You're testing my patience, Lucien."

"I always have, haven't I?"

"Lucien…" she warned.

"Jean," he rumbled his retort. "This method is just," he licked he wrist, "way…more," his hot breath blew over the dampened skin, "fun," he planted a long kiss at her pulse point, looking up at her transfixed expression before releasing his lips with a loud popping sound.

"Just…" she spat out, flustered. "Just eat your breakfast."

"Whatever you wish, Valentine. Really," he forked his eggs into his mouth.

They ate in silence for a moment until Jean demanded, "How can you be so patient?"

He snorted. "Oh, my darling, I assure you it isn't easy for me either. It needs to be right. Nothing is more important to me than that, Jean."

She nodded. "Soon." She paused. "It's odd to think that soon this will be a distant problem. We will be used to… married life," she lowered her voice to almost a whisper.

"I am still pinching myself over it all. You're going to be my _wife_."

"And you'll be my husband. For now, valentine will do."

He stood, clearing their plates to the counter. "Yes, it sure will. I love you." He extended his hand and she rose from her seat. "Now, what would you like to do today?"


	8. Chapter 8

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

"You're _so_ beautiful."

He'd whispered it just perceptibly in her ear, behind her on their way out the door. They were about to go for a walk through Hyde Park. He saw her smile beyond her chestnut curls which were tidy under her maroon-colored hat. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it before wrapping her arms around his, gripping his bicep.

"I can't believe we're here," his animated voice echoed through the hallway of their honeymoon hotel.

"It's a lovely city. Well, what I've seen so far."

"Yes. Lovely, indeed," he agreed before he stopped walking. He reached his left arm to her shoulder, pulling her into him. "I just meant, I can't believe we're here _. Married_ …" his eyes sparkled with mirth when she looked up at him.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now," she teased.

"Oh, no," he ran his lips over her cheekbone, relishing in the softness of her skin as he muttered, "I have many more thoughts than that when it comes to you, Mrs. Blake."

"Lucien!" she blushed but recovered quickly. "You can share those thoughts on our walk, then. Please."

"Gladly but I'm afraid I won't be able to share _all_ of them."

"Why not?"

"Well, as large as the park is…" he nodded suggestively, letting her fill in the blanks.

"Oh, you silly man."

"And you married me."

"I did. I can't believe it either," she shook her head. "But _we're here_."

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, neither of them caring who saw. Lucien's hands found the small of her back and her arms linked around his neck. After a moment, he pulled back extending his arm out to her once again.


	9. Chapter 9

_**\- Posting some drabbles from Tumblr - to keep them in one place...**_

"Can we leave?"

"Lucien, we've been here maybe twenty minutes."

"I know. It's just…" he groaned.

"What?"

"Do you really need something new? I think -"

Her glare stopped his train of thought.

"Need I remind you that I'm buying this dress for the Victoria Police Gala? Not because I want something frivolous for myself…"

"I know. You're right," Lucien lamented. "Here," he reached for a dress on the rack next to them. "Try this. You always look beautiful in blue."

She snatched the powder blue material from him and headed for the dressing room area. Lucien watched and sighed as she disappeared around the corner.

—

"Jean, darling?" Lucien called when she hadn't come out fifteen minutes later.

"In the middle room," she responded flatly.

He knocked lightly at the door before it opened. He saw her selection of dresses hanging neatly on the hooks and Jean standing there, silently finishing up the buttons of the blouse she chose that morning.

"No luck?"

"No," she answered shortly, looking down. "Shall we then?" she walked past him, thanking the dressing room attendant as she did.

He caught up to her. "Home, then?"

"Yes. You're right. I can just wear something I have."

"If you're sure," he placed his hand at her waist as he opened the store door for them.

"Well, don't sound too relieved," she rolled her eyes and walked ahead to the car. Lucien watched, perplexed, as she settled in the passenger seat before he caught up and got in the driver side.

Before he put the keys in the ignition, he paused and turned to her. "Please, Jean. If you want to try somewhere else, I don't mind going. It's not my favourite way to spend the afternoon, that's true, but just say the word."

"No. No, I'm tired of shopping too."

Lucien put the car in drive and Jean turned to her left, her gaze fixed out the window.

"We can look again if you want tomorrow. If not, how about your green silk dress? I do like that one," he offered as they pulled onto the road.

"Right. I could…" she agreed through a sigh.

At the stop light, he drummed his fingers against the wheel, compensating for their stilted conversation. He looked over to her. She looked irritated and while he knew he wasn't the best shopping companion, he didn't think he'd been insufferable. Far from it, in fact.

He moved his hand from the gear stick to pat above her knee. She stiffened before placing her other hand on top of his, pressing back before he pulled it away at the green light.

"Lucien?" she asked when he geared into third.

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you come back to see what I was trying on?" she asked.

"What? I don't know. I guess I thought I'd see what you liked best when you dressed in them at home."

"Oh. I see. Well, yes, that's just as well," her voice broke off and burned in her throat so she swallowed, hoping he didn't notice her uneven words.

He did.

The car slowed down before he braked on the side of the road and turned off the engine. "Jean," he tried. His hand was back on her knee. "What is it?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine, Lucien."

"Did you want me to see them? I didn't know."

"No, no. Really. Let's just go. Please."

"Tomorrow we'll find a dress you like."

"I don't think so."

"I may regret saying it but there are plenty of other stores. You'll find something."

"It's not about the dresses. It's me."

"What?"

"I won't find anything. I really liked the dresses back there but nothing looks good on me. Nothing new or trendy will suit me. I'll wear what I have. Simple as that."

"Jean…" he sighed. He knew he had to pick his words carefully. "You'll find something you look incredible in. I don't believe for a minute that will be difficult."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Lucien. I need to accept it," she carried on. "I'm not exactly the intended shopper of those more fashionable stores. I am…getting along in years," she paused. "And looking at myself in that dressing room mirror made that all the more obvious," she grimaced. "It's alright, Lucien," her voice softened. "I didn't mean to be short with you."

He gripped her hand tightly. "My God, Jean. You are so beautiful," he hushed an unwavering claim with a harsh ardor that swayed her. She choked and wiped away an unwelcome tear.

"I'm sorry. It's silly, really."

"No," he said simply. "It isn't."

He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "I don't want you to feel like this. It isn't true. It will never be true."

She craned her neck to see him giving her a small smile that matched his pleading eyes. Reassurance swam in the blues of his eyes, making them look glassy. A subtle but disbelieving shake of his head and his knuckles stroking across her velvet cheek warmed her.

"Well I am getting older. We can't deny that," her light-headedness disguised insecurities he knew still loomed, holding her back from understanding how he saw her.

"We both are but you know something? I'm glad I get to grow old with you," he kissed the back of her left hand.

"I had already grown old when we met," she pointed out.

"Be as determined as you like to convince me otherwise but you, my dear, have emanated beauty - in every possible way - since the day we met. It has in no way diminished. If anything, the opposite is true."

"Lucien…"

"I mean it," he insisted.

"Hmm. Maybe it's _because_ I met you."

"I can't take the credit."

Her eyebrows rose to challenge him.

"Well, not all of it," he chuckled.

She sighed and leaned her head against the headrest. "Definitely a lot."

"Good," he leaned toward her and kissed the corner of her mouth. She held his head there, placing a lingering kiss to his hair. "It's an easy task," he assured at her neck. She exhaled contentedly and let him go. He started the car again.

"Jean?" he began as he pulled back onto the road.

"Hmm?"

"Just for clarification purposes, you'll never have to question my willingness to be nearby when you're changing your clothes."

A coy smirk lit up her features. "Oh. Let's hurry home then, hmm? I may have some options in my closet."

He accelerated and the car sped up, demanding he shift gears once again. "Ooh, that you do," an appreciative drawl rumbled from his chest.

"And I'll need your honest thoughts," she continued with an evoking tease.

"That will not be a problem. Except to say, I may have to suppress my more enthusiastic opinions."

"You have always been prone to speaking before you think…"

"Is that a bad quality?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"I like to follow my impulses," he conceded.

"I know. I accepted that a long time ago. And, I encourage them," she informed him as they turned right onto their road.

"Very good to know," he chuckled.


	10. Chapter 10

Lucien pushed his scotch to the middle of his desk upon hearing the sound of the piano carrying in from the hallway. Curiously, he strode into the living room to find Jean, fidgeting at the ivory keys. She didn't hear him come in, so he watched her. He marveled at her; poised and just out of her peripheral vision - so he could see her dreamy expression behind the curls that framed her face. He wanted to brush them away from where they tickled at her cheek and jawline and replace them with his lips. He couldn't help but move to the edge of the bench, his hand at her back and his lips at the top of her head. "Good evening, Jean."

"Oh, Lucien. I didn't know you were there,"

"I realized," he chuckled and gestured to the piano.

"Yes, well," her hands brushed her skirt over her thighs, nervously. "I always wanted to play as a little girl. We had this old piano in our church. I admired it every Sunday, but my parents couldn't see the use in my learning. I had better things to focus on, they said. It wasn't practical for a farmer's daughter who was inevitably to be wed to a farmer."

He gripped her shoulder "Oh, but you'd be wonderful."

She scoffed through a smile.

"I know it! I've heard you sing. And you're so smart, Jeannie. Just a lesson or two, you'll have a lot down."

"Hmm. In that case, teach me."

"Alright. Sit at the middle of the bench." He placed his hand at her waist to shift her down, and watched her over her shoulder. "Right. Give me your hand," he said softly at her ear, and leaning over her shoulder, brought their joined hands to the middle octave, adjusting her fingers to make a chord. "There. Press down now. Give that a go. Good," he whispered.

He watched as she pressed the three notes, tinkering around with them to make harmony.

"Oh, but she's a natural," he proclaimed.

"Hardly," she smiled, still trilling at the notes. The notes stopped, replaced by her giggling when he began kissing the back of her neck. "You're not helping, Lucien…"

"Aren't I, though?"

His arms hugged over hers, and his fingertips danced at her wrists. "I could teach you a scale..."

"Alright," she gulped. His scent surrounded her; a smell she couldn't describe but could calm and excite her in equal measure: distinct to him, faintly coupled tonight by the woody smell of scotch.

"Bring your hand down here. See where the same keys you're playing sit just down here?" he watched her hand move down to play the lower notes. His words at her ear almost made her stop, but she carried on. "And in this hand," he brought her hand to his lips to kiss the base of her thumb. "Begin with your thumb on this note…." he placed their hands together at the first note of the scale,"...and continue up the notes until your third finger."

Three notes sounded. "Now, bring your thumb beneath for the fourth note….Good! And continue up to the last note."

He watched her fingers move up the notes, then descend back to her thumb, impressing him when she finished, bringing her middle finger over her thumb, barely faltering, to complete the scale. She always was a fast learner. She tilted her head backward, resting it at his stomach, to beam up at him.

"Perfect," he laid a kissed at her hairline. She repeated the scale, the notes echoing through the empty house. "That chord you played before - play it on the first, third, fifth and final note."

"Hmm, alright," she mused, leaning back into his body. "Sit down, Lucien," she patted next to her on the bench. "Show me."

"Your left hand will play that chord while you play that scale. So, the first, third and fifth note will use that chord."

"Okay. And the other notes?" she asked as she played the scale, only stumbling with the chord slightly as she moved up and down the scale.

"Oh, we'll get to those after."

"After?" a smile flirted at her lips.

"After," he confirmed. "I'd say that's enough for your first lesson. Best not to be overwhelmed, eh?" he mumbled as his beard brushed over her cheek, and his tongue traced her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut as his kisses followed her jawline down to her neck. "No, I couldn't have that..."

"Lucien," she breathed, sounding equally frustrated and endeared. She inhaled deeply, "But I am."

"Oh?"

As if to convince him, she gripped his face in her hands, and brought his lips - hard - to hers.

"Oh, I see. I am sorry. Yes, that was definitely enough for your first lesson, then."

"You're not very good at this," she smiled through her realization.

His knuckles brushed the height of her cheek. "Oh, I don't know, darling. All I can say is that March 25th can't come soon enough."

She sighed in agreement. "Teach me the rest of the scale, Lucien."

"Of course. Come here," he pulled her into his lap. He showed her the rest of the chords, placing small kisses and nips at her neck and hair whenever she played the right notes. And when she finished the scale in full, successfully for the first time, she turned in his lap to kiss him soundly.

"I told you that you'd be wonderful," he teased smugly.

She was playing with his hair when she groaned, "You always have to be right, don't you?"

"Well," he began. "I know I'm always right about you."


	11. Chapter 11

She felt Lucien's heavy breath against her neck. Her legs felt heavy, yet weightless; as if they could melt right into their twisted sheets. She stretched her arms and legs, letting the last waves of her orgasm flow through her body. With her arm outstretched, she reached behind her, feeling his beard, and whispered her lips to his before falling just as quickly back into her blissful position, resting on her side and curled up against him.

His hands were lazy, yet greedy as they danced over her. His thumb pressed at her hip bone before his entire palm fell to her bum, squeezing once lovingly before trailing over the nerves burning at her lower back. His fingernails skated up, creating goosebumps as they scratched up her ribs. The dance ended at her breast, happily still there, with her nipple caught between his thumb and forefinger. She couldn't help but rock her hips back against him as he teased her, pinching with varying pressure.

"I could stay here all day…" her voice was airy, affected by his mouth at her jaw, against her pulsepoint - her heartbeat still racing from just moments before. He had groaned and sworn her name, bringing her with him. She couldn't believe how hearing her name soaked with pleasure falling from his lips urgently was a catalyst to her own pleasure. Her name growled out, echoed against their bedroom walls was the breaking point that made her see stars.

"Could you now?" he teased as his hand slipped down between them and found her warm folds, slippery with want; past and present. He toyed at them in rhythm to his hand at her breast. "God, Jean. You're so beautiful."

She whined into her pillow and bucked against his hand, urging him on. "Well, I would love to stay here all day with you," he assured her.

"We will. Another day. I have my meeting at town hall. And soon!" she realized, looking at the position of the hands on the clock. And then at his hands, repositioning on her, pressing at her hips again, until she was flat on her back looking up at him.

"My wife: the councilwoman…" he beamed.

"How would it look if I missed the first meeting?" she giggled as he flopped himself on top of her.

"I'll tell them it was my fault. I do have a reputation of being reckless…" he was persuasive, with a nip and a light kiss to her upper lip; at that spot he learned quickly was her weakness.

"Yes. You do."

"And they would understand. Just look at you," he was holding himself up over her, admiring her, flushed beneath him. She smiled and felt a proud blush at her cheeks; she wasn't sure would ever go away when he looked at her like that.

She grabbed his arms and pulled him down for one more kiss. It lingered on until finally Lucien broke. "C'mon, councilwoman. Let's get you cleaned and ready for your meeting."


End file.
